


Ms. Morgan

by pawmccatney



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Gen, Genderbending, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24422689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawmccatney/pseuds/pawmccatney
Summary: Arthur turns into a woman!  Will he find a way to revert back to his original self or will he be stuck like this forever?(I recommend skipping chapters 3 and 4 they're absolute filler trash i'll be rewriting it later on)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	1. One

Arthur fucked up.

Fucked up bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The day before, he was hunting moose in Ambarino when he stumbled upon an old structure up near the mountains. He headed over there, curious to see what it had inside, hoping it would be a secret stash of money, or gold. Instead, he found something very bizarre.

It looked like a witch's hut. There was a big cauldron in the corner and a chest on the side. The place was full of tonics, something very witch-like. There was also a Raven on the side, watching Arthur's every move.

Arthur grabbed the tonics and cautiously walked over to the cauldron. He peered over and saw it was filled with a strange, black liquid. 

In a moment of utter stupidity, Arthur grabbed a cup from his satchel, filled it up with the strange liquid, an downed it quickly.

Arthur was immediately hit with dizziness. He tried to shrug it off, but his head was spinning. He tried to walk but stumbled and blacked out.

Arthur woke up not too far away from the hut. The confused man just laid there, sprawled out on the grass. His vision was blurry, but he looked down and he could barely se although it was hanging off like it was a size too big. He never really thought about it, because he couldn't think straight. He finally mustered the courage to get up and he just sat there, doing nothing.

He rubbed his jaw but frowned when instead of feeling his rough stubble, his hand felt soft and smooth skin.  
The last time he shaved was around two weeks ago.

"Odd." Arthur thought. He stood up, his gunbelt almost falling from his hips because of how big it was. He caught it just in time and was tightening it when a sudden gust of wind knocked his hat off.

He bent down to pick it up when long, blonde locks fell down from his face. He grew even more confused, as he remembered his hair being short. " _How the hell did I not notice my hair?_ " he thought as he brushed the hair from his face, shook his head and blinked fast.

"This don't feel ri-" Arthur stopped talking when he noticed his deep drawl, southern drawl was now high pitched.  
He then opened his satchel, rummaging through its contents to find the pocket mirror he had gotten for Molly. He hastily opened the mirror and froze when he saw his reflection.

He saw a very feminine version of himself staring back at him. His eyes widened, and initially thought it was just the effect of the liquid.

Was that woman really him?

Arthur raised a brow. The reflection raised its brow.  
He bared his teeth. The reflection bared its teeth.  
He raised his finger. The reflection raised its finger.

He finally realized that yes, the woman was really him.  
"Wh-What the fuck?!!" Arthur said, horrified, dropping the pocket mirror and walking backwards.

He tripped on a rock and fell hard on his back. He just laid there, a million thoughts running through his head.  
He tried to think, but he just couldn't! He stood up, and slapped himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

He just paced around, his hand on his temple. "What the hell am I supposed to say to the gang?! Shit, I should've known something would happen to me when I drank that- that damned _thing!_ Arthur said worriedly.

He stopped talking, and just froze. He ran his hands through his soft, wavy hair, which had now grown a considerable length and was cascaded down around his shoulders.

He looked down slowly and saw a pair of breasts. They weren't as big as Karen's but it was big enough to be seen despite the loose clothes. Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The hell should I do? I can't go to camp like this!" Arthur said aloud. He couldn't change his appearance, everyone would notice a mile away. He just decided to ride back at camp, and to face the whirlwind of accusations and questions.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur was now nearing camp. He was trotting slowly on the path and he didn't even think of what to say yet! He was frantically thinking what to say, when a loud voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Who goes there?!"

Oh fuck.


	2. Two

Arthur didn't know what to say.  
Should he just say that it's him? They wouldn't believe him anyway. Yet. Should he just say silent? He'd probably get shot.  
Screw it, he'll just reply back. 

"It's Arthur..." Arthur shouted nervously.

John frowned. The high-pitched voice sounded nothing like Arthur's, but it had a similar accent. He squinted his eyes, and the figure he could make out was a woman's. 

Based from what John could see, the person was wearing the exact same outfit Arthur wore, and was riding the same horse that Arthur had, even had the same tack and all. 

"Who is you? I ain't gonna ask twice!" John shouted as he moved closer, his rifle now aimed at the stranger. 

Arthur didn't reply. Instead he dismounted his horse, and put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Easy." Arthur said cautiously, looking at his "brother".

Now that John had gotten closer, he got a good look of the strangers face.

She had a striking resemblance to Arthur. She had the same colorful eyes, she even had the same scar on his chin. The hair color was the same, and she was wearing Arthur's hat, which he had let no one wear before, except John.

"A-Arthur?" John muttered, bewildered. He still didn't put his rifle down. " _Are my eyes deceiving me?_ " The raven haired man thought.

A small part of him was captivated by her good looks, but shook his head, remembering it would be weird thinking about Arthur like that- if she in fact was Arthur.

The commotion attracted a few, and Lenny was one of them. He approached the two, his hand on his gun.

"Dutch! Dutch, we got a visitor!" Lenny hollered.

Dutch was in his tent, chatting to Hosea about his next great plan when Lenny shouted his name. The two men exited the camp and Dutch could not believe his eyes.

A woman, dressed exactly as Arthur, stood before him.

Dutch blinked hard. Was he going crazy? Arthur, Hosea, and John, hell even Uncle questioned his sanity and he was beginning to think they were right.

"What is going on here?!" Dutch said calmly. He had no reason to panic. There would probably a realistic explanation of this. The camp started to surround him,  
With looks of confusion and disbelief shared by all as they looked at the lady who had a striking similarity to their gang's enforcer. Some of the men even pulled their guns out and aimed it at her.

"Gentlemen, put your guns down." Dutch commanded. Once they complied he continued. "Would you please enlighten us by telling us your name and what you're doing here?" 

"It- It's me Dutch! It's Arthur!"

Dutch shook his head. He didn't even dare to entertain the idea in his head that Arthur, his friend, his son, the first member in his gang, was the lady standing before him.

"I-I can explain!" Arthur said. Dutch grew more angry. Was this actually Arthur? Did he just pay some poor whore from the saloon to dress in his clothes, and to ride back to camp just for a laugh?

"Go on, then!!" said Dutch impatiently, veins in his forehead were now throbbing.

"I was out hunting, okay! And found this old witch hut up in Ambarino. Checked it out, saw some tonics and potions and this weird looking cauldron, and saw it had some nasty looking liquid or whatever. Damn, it smelled nasty! I d-"

"So you decided to drink it?" Hosea interrupted.

"I know, I'm a dumbass!" Arthur said, embarrassment evident in his tone. "Then I passed out and woke up as a woman."

"Are you- are you-" Dutch lost his patience and yanked her by her neckerchief, knocking her hat off in the process. He stopped when he got distracted by her eyes, electric blue with specks of emerald green. They looked exactly like Arthur's! He scanned her face closely, and noticing the uncanny resemblance she had to Arthur, even having the same scar on his chin. It took a while before he let her go, then bending down to grab her hat.

"I mean, she does look like Arthur." commented Javier, followed by murmurs of agreement from the rest.

"Do you really expect us to believe your story?" Hosea said, narrowing his eyes. "To expect that you're actually our Arthur, instead of some random woman? Do you think we'll believe your tall tale of witches, and potions, and the like?" Hosea then looked at Dutch. "Dutch?" He said, asking for support.

"Well, I suppose there's one way to find out to see if our friend here is telling the truth. We should ask a series of questions that only the real Arthur could answer truthfully." Dutch replied before turning his attention to the rest of camp.  
"Alright! Mr. Matthews and I will now have a conversation with our guest, here. Everyone, back to work!" And with that, the rest of the gang scrambled off to do what they were doing previously.


	3. 3

Dutch lead Arthur into his tent, with Hosea following. 

The three of them entered the tent, with Hosea pulling down the flaps. 

"Sit." Dutch commanded, gesturing to the chair in front of his cot. His gaze lingered on Arthur as she sat down, shuffling nervously in her seat. 

He noticed she'd rub her hand at the back of her neck, just like Arthur. He was silently thinking and was slowly becoming convinced that the woman in front of him was actually Arthur.

"Shit, Dutch, Hosea, I'm such a dumbass." Arthur said. "M'sorry."

"It'll be okay, don't worry." Dutch reassured. "We won't hurt you."

Arthur nodded his head, his cheeks tinted pink.

Hosea interrupted the moment by loudly clearing his throat, motioning for Dutch to start.

"As I said earlier, the both of us are going to ask some questions to see if you're actually Arthur, who you claim to be. Is that clear?"

Arthur only mustered a soft yes, and Dutch continued.  
"Okay then. When did you first meet me and Hosea?"

"Around '77, I reckon, when I was in my teens, I guess. Tried to rob your pocket watch. Didn't work out, seeing as 'sea caught me."

Dutch nodded, disbelief starting to cloud his mind. He managed to snap out of it, and continued. "Mhmm, that is c-correct. Alright, when did we meet John?"

Marston? Passed by town when we a bunch'a angry townsfolk. The dumbass got caught stealing and was gonna get lynched when you intervened. Boy was almost half feral when we brought him back to camp."

Dutch blinked hard, taking in the information. He was fully convinced that she was Arthur, and was gonna say something. Hosea was still not convinced.

"Hold up. Dutch. You actually believe her?" Hosea said, his eyes gazing at her warily. "How do we know you're not some poor girl Arthur paid to go here and tell all this stuff? Or a rival gang member trying to insinuate yourself here to get information, huh? How about you tell us something, something that Arthur would never tell anyone else about, except me and Dutch. Go on." He said, his finger jabbed at her accusingly.

"Calm down 'sea, Christ." Arthur continued reluctantly. "Remember that time when I bought those bass from the butcher, and claimed it as my own catch? We had a feast later on, then we went to town the next day, and the butcher had the nerve to ask how the fish was. Both of ya' still never live it down." Arthur said, still embarrassed after all those years.

Hosea knew Arthur was too embarrassed to tell this story to the camp, let alone some random stranger. His face paled, and a million thoughts clouded his mind. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. Worry. 

In his fifty-six years of existence on this Earth, he was never a believer of magic spells, witchcraft and all that, but he surely was one now.

"H-how.. what?" Hosea began, shocked. "Surely all- all _this_ is temporary r-right? You can't be stuck like that forever!" He said, his hands shaking lightly, gesturing to Arthur's form. He was usually the calm one, the rational one, but now all of that went away. "You're such a goddamn fool!"

Arthur didn't know if it was permanent, or temporary.  
"I reckon a few weeks, hopefully a few days." Arthur lied, as to not make Hosea worry even more.

Hosea remained silent, exhaling loudly. The three just remained in Dutch's tent, uncomfortable silence wafting in the air. Dutch was the first one to break it

"Jesus.. what do we do?" Dutch piped up, running his hands through his hair. "What should we say to the camp? They'll think I've lost my mind."

"The best thing to do is to just wait it out." Hosea said, looking up at him. "Leave the explaining to me."


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be referring to arthur as he cause it's his pov yknow

For the past hour, Arthur stood on the collapsed dock by the edge of camp, mindlessly smoking a cigarette, admiring the quaint azure of the waters and the tranquility of the setting sun as it dipped below the shoreline. 

Dutch and Hosea, with him beside them, had announced to the anticipating camp earlier that the strange woman, was in fact Arthur. She watched as the faces of the crowd morphed into the expected expressions- shock, confusion, disbelief. She heard as chorus of voices started to rise and Dutch's boomimg voice asking them to calm down. 

Since then, most of the gang had avoided Arthur to give him space, sending pitying looks along his way. Arthur thought it was botn good and bad, the former because he could spend his time without interruption, and bad because people thought he was very fragile, which he felt he very much wasn't. He hoped they would stop giving him glances the next day.

He didn't know what to do. He kept thinking about what he said earlier.

"I reckon a few weeks, hopefully a few days."

Sure, he pulled that one from his ass, but he really didn't know if it was true. If it wasn't, and Arthur would spend the rest of his miserable life as a woman, it would probably be a good thing. The public might think the notorious Arthur Morgan died due to him having no public appearances, and he could live his life not being chased by the law.

He was thinking about it when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned around, and saw Hosea walking towards him holding two stew bowls.

"Thought you were hungry, so I brought you this." Hosea said, handing Arthur a stew bowl. Arthur muttered a thanks and just held it, not eating.

"How are you feeling?" Hosea said, looking up at the sky, admiring the gray-blue color and the small silver stars that speckled it.

"I feel like shit." Arthur replied.

"That's not good. Come, follow me." Hosea said, with Arthur reluctantly following.

The both of them sat down at a table, and started to eat silently. When they finished, Hosea put his hand on top of Arthur's and began to speak.

"Look, I know you hate being told, but don't let whatever happened to you get the best of you. You need to stay strong, you hear? I'm here for you, the camp's here for you, son. Don't forget that. Now go get some rest, you need it." Hosea said, patting his hand before grabbing both of the bowls and heading off to Pearson's chuckwagon.

Arthur thought about what Hosea said, before standing up and heading over to her tent. She lay down on the cot, and sleep take her.

Arthur woke up, got out of bed. Se really needed to chance clothes as they were too loose. He would have to borrow some clothes from Sadie, not that she would mind, hopefully. He rummaged through his chest and got the smallest pants he could find. He put them on and walked out of his tent. 

He went over to the percolator near the fire, where he found Abigail and Sadie. 

"Ladies." Arthur drawled. 

"Lady." Abigail and Sadie teased the same time. 

"Very funny." Arthur deadpanned. 

"We're not wrong, ain't we?" Abigail replied back cheekily. 

"Shit, got me there." Arthur replied back. He was relieved they weren't looking at him in pity. He got his coffee and headed over to the shores of camp. 

He sat down on the fallen log near the edge and downed the dark liquid, ignoring the burning sensation in his tongue. He brought out his journal and began to write. 

" _A series of unfortunate events led me to turn into a woman. Still as ugly as I was before, though. I don't know what to feel. Should I be happy as a woman? Be sad, angry, or all three? Hosea's fine with it, Dutch's fine with it, the gang's fine with it, so everything's fine and they all agree I'm a damn fool for drinking that thing. MICAH hasn't seen me yet, and that's what I'm most ~~afraid~~ uneasy about. Haven't even thought of busting him out of jail. They could go ahead and hang him for all I care. _

_Living as a woman is probably better since nobody will recognize me. I just hope I don't have to live like a woman. I'll never want to and never will wear skirts, or do the laundry._ "

"Everyone want to see that bastard hang, you ain't alone."

Arthur looked up, to see John peering down at his journal (and maybe his shirt?). He jumped and snapped his journal shut, staring daggers at the younger man.

"You ever heard of privacy, Marston?" Arthur growled.

John put his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted t-"

"To what, take a peek at my journal? If that's what you came for, then you can go-"

"Alright, just calm down. Jesus..." John sighed. "I just wanted to ask if I could sit with you."

"Alright, fine."

John sat down beside Arthur, smoking his pipe. They sat there in brief silence before Arthur decided to speak up.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping at ya. Guess it's a woman thing." Arthur said, looking at John.

John threw his head back, and laughed. "Just like Abigail."

"Just like Abigail."

The two sat there in comfortable silence. It was a while before John stood up.

"I'll leave you too it, then." John said, patting Arthur's back and standing up, leaving Arthur alone to contemplate more./p>


End file.
